Bunkering down

All I want to do is hunker down in Lil' Ugmo with the boys and haaaaannnnggg out. I'm feeling very sluggy lately. I don't want to do anything but quietly craft and eat cookies and wear flannel pjs. It's that time of the year for me.

Last night we had a perfect night with the Big Yam. It was one of those nights when dinner came together quickly, he ate well, we gave him a bath, he went to bed without a fuss, and he was in a good, giggly, laughing mood the entire evening and didn't whine or squawk once. Those nights are somewhat rare (it's rare that we don't have at least a little jag of whinging), but it's so lovely when they happen - like all is right and good in the world.

I'm so committed to hibernating that I've been a bad dodgeball coach and I haven't really been trying to hustle to make it to games. We had to forfeit this week because we didn't have enough people to make a team and I was not-so-secretly pleased at the prospect of another quiet night in. The following photo is for the benefit of one SMckay. Two years ago, shortly after we first bought Lil' Ugmo, I upgraded all my plates to a set from Crate and Barrel. In between each plate was a piece of corrugated cardboard meant to keep the plates from chipping. Well, shortly after we moved in SMcKay was over and I was wondering what to do with the cardboard and she was of the opinion that I should throw it out but I was of the opinion that I might be able to recycle it into some kind of craft project. Here is the resulting craft project, two years later:

Ta-da! It's a garland of corrugated cardboard stars strung on red yarn that we have hanging over the archway between our living room and dining room. I think it looks quite handsome.

While we were sick last weekend we watched J.J. Abrams' Super 8 which I really wanted to love because it stars Coach from Friday Night Lights but which I couldn't love because it was boring and lacked emotional resonance and failed utterly at capturing the childhood wonder and adventure of 80s films that were standard bearers of that genre like, E.T. or Goonies. It just fell kind of flat the whole time and the cast of kid characters was too big and too poorly developed for you to care about them the way you care about Chunk from Goonies. I feel like I'm ready to come right out and say that I don't like J.J. Abrams. I don't get what all the fuss is about. The Dotytron also attempted a viewing of Crazy, Stupid, Love which he turned off after a good 45 minutes because he couldn't handle how unfunny it is. I still don't understand how so many people went crazy for that film and thought it was the smartest, funniest, mature film treatment on relationships in years. FALSE!

Tonight for dinner we had shakshuka eggs and warmed pitas. I love shakshuka eggs - it's a tasty, filling, 20 minute meal. What's not to love?

Fin.

Words cannot express

What has been happening around here lately! I haven't posted since Thursday because things have been insane. I worked my little butt off to get my literature review for class on Saturday (that I skipped) done by Friday so that I could go into the weekend and not feel stressed. I did it (got my marks back today and I got a 98% on it too!) - which meant that in addition to just generally feeling pumped for the weekend, I had the added high of handing in an assignment early. That is one of the greatest highs of life.

This was our Leslieville Wanderlust dinner of beef stroganoff, root vegetable mash, and brussels sprouts:

So good! Look at that? Don't you want to faceplant into that bowl? I know I sure as heck do. The Big Yam has been a bit of a picky eater lately. He basically just wants to eat nothing but fruit and carbs. Which overall, is better than wanting to eat nothing but straight up fried carbs, but not enough for the controlling mother in me. He's been sick from one thing or another for the past month or so, so I'm willing to give him some leeway, but he's just being a weird jerk sometimes and refusing stuff he's eaten before and just hucking perfectly good food on the ground, etc. So I've asked J to cut out his afternoon snack and it seems to be working. He can't afford to be picky if he's hungry, right? Works for Africa, right? (Too soon?)

The Wanderlust was so much fun. We met up with my friends M & M and had a grand old time being idiots on the street. Dr. Rei and I were yucking it up non-stop and we ran into some friends of hers at Bobette and Belle. All the stores had little nibblies and cookies and we got to poke around and window shop. It was a good time. There was also this weird, sketchy homeless-looking guy selling charcoal-grilled souvlaki outside of this rando store on Queen East called Holy Cow! which occupies a disproportionately large storefront and seems to be in the business of selling vaguely "ethnic" looking tchotchkes like giant fiberglass cows. The funny part was how willing the Dotytron was to eat a souvlaki from that guy when I made a joke about it. It was hilarious how sincerely he wanted homeless souvlaki.

I wanted to buy some birch branches to put in these galvanized planters I have outside the house, flanking our Costco wreath which only cost...wait for it...$17.25. SEVENTEEN TWENTY FIVE! FOR A REAL WREATH! Steal of a century! I want birch branches and like some of those branches with the berries...but birch branches are expensive and the participating florist at Wanderlust wasn't cooperating with big enough deals.

On Friday night I was feeling tired and cranky from a sick Big Yam waking up at like, 3 am. So I opted out of Ladies Night Out on my street, even though I was the one who organized it and made the reservation, etc. I was sad because I do love a chance to hang with the Ladies, but it just didn't make sense for me, considering the rigours of the weekend to come. So I went straight home and started holiday baking and got to live out one of my sublimated dreams of parenting:

First of all - look at how cute he looks in his polo and dark rinse jeans. Seriously. It's a fine line when you're dressing children. Dressing them in mini-versions of adult clothes can be super-cute (see: little black toddlers dressed like Kid Cudi or Kanye) but it can also be kind of icky too (see: little toddler girls wearing faux fur stoles and mini Uggs.) Basically, it comes down to this for me: don't dress your kid like a privileged spoiled brat in first year at York University. It is a difficult line to negotiate, but I will say that light rinse jeans for kids are THE WORST. Why you wanna be dressing your kid in dad jeans? Secondly, look at how cute he is all up on the step stool watching (soon to be "helping") me put together a batch of cookies. He's such a little homunculus!

Saturday morning breakfast - french toast, cinnamon peaches, breakfast sausage. Did you know that the Dotytron claimed that he didn't know how to make french toast? I couldn't believe it.

Saturday pre-Prince we had a surprise birthday party for SMckay - the theme of which was "SMckay's favorite things" which meant: beards, Jewish-related stuff, and Pizza Hut. So I made rugelach:

So good! And so easy! I'm adding it to the Xmas cookie rotation. They're so cute, too. The cream cheese dough comes together lickety split and is really easy to work with. Here is the decor that I picked up:

Then there was our date with His Purple Majesty himself. I can't even describe it. That guy is pure charisma. The sexiest, velveteen miniature pony with winged eyeliner that has ever walked the earth. How is he so sexy? No one knows. It seems so counter-intuitive. It was non-stop hits - banger after banger that had us up out of our seats dancing our little heinies off. A few well-placed slow jams. A rocking light show and a backup band of super models. It's insane. Like, hotter than the servers at Moxies by far. I don't know where he breeds them, but they're all gorgeous, insanely talented musicians/singers, and 99% female. It's crazygonuts. Anyway - he is so over-the-top and melodramatic and he brings a pretty diverse crowd out. People bedecked in ball gowns. More leather leggings and stiletto ankle boots than I've ever seen in my life. He introduced a "special guest" to the stage and it was his guitar. LOL! And the man can SHRED. Each time he's done with a guitar he tosses it off to the side and it's the responsibility of some poor AV tech to make sure they catch it each time. So G-D funky. I loved every minute of it. We had been primed that the people on the Friday night show had received 5 or 6 encores and so we were so disappointed when we only got 3...but the man is 53 and totally gave us our money's worth. I wish he would move back to Toronto. I mean, Andy Allo is okay, I guess - if by "okay" you mean, "gorgeous, talented woman"


I think that Prince is the only person left alive still supporting Versace. He finished the concert wearing a velvety Versace number. Zomg. I can't believe how good this concert was. It was the first show I've been to in like, over a year (since I was pregnant and went to see Rush) and it was PHENOMENAL. What a freakishly talented person. Shouts to Lolly who totally babysat the Big Yam for us while we went out.

Post-Prince, post-being up super late, post-post-party cleanup breakfast of hanger steak, over-easy eggs, Brick Street Bakery bread toast and chimichurri. We finished up Sunday with a visit from the Dotytron's good bud A, who is in town playing a few shows from NYC, and I took the Big Yam with me to our friend L's hot dog party at his house. He made up a bunch of fancy hot dogs and J & S brought homemade hot dog buns and I brought baked beans and made these maple doughnuts which were THE LICK. So good. Such a nice doughnut recipe - all yeasty and light.

Bonus shots of the Boobla in his skeleton PJs, looking all cute:

Look at his skinny little legs and his chubby feet! In other Boobla news...he's taken his first steps!!! He did it last week some time...I can't quite remember exactly what day...I think it was last Monday, November 21st. He's so funny - he won't do it all the time...but J has been practicing with him. He's tucks his arms up by his armpits like little chicken wings and he walks with his belly out in this loose-limbed, drunken, old-man sailor way that is really funny. We had Momma D over on Sunday for a brief visit and it was classic mother-in-law behaviour...the Dotytron mentioned that the Big Yam had started walking and she says, "What! Nobody told me!" *insert accusing glance in my direction* I dunno!! I forgot!!! And why is it my responsibility??? Anyway, he's not walking just yet...more like he'll take a few stumbling steps from one set of arms to another. Pretty cute that the Dotytron may or may not have teared up the first time he saw it happen. D'awwwwwww.

This was dinner last night. Freezer Greek Mac'n'Cheese and salad (not pictured - just greens tossed with balsamic vinaigrette) and my new favorite, quick, cheaty appetizer - proscuitto-wrapped prunes baked in the oven for the ultimate in sweet-savoury one-bite goodness.

So I'm having this ongoing dilemma about xmas - basically, I don't want to buy presents for anyone over the age of 18. I think it's ridiculous. But Sdawg is insisting and to a lesser extent my sister is insisting that we continue to the holiday consumer glut. My sister, whom I love dearly, and Sdawg (whom I also love dearly. Most of the time) are way more "American" and "mainstream" than I am in their general belief systems and degree to which they can be swayed by the forces of capitalism. Growing up, we didn't get presents. We went away on a trip over the holidays, and to this day, I prefer experiential gifts over stuff that's essentially garbage (I'm talking more like, grandparent presents or presents from people who go-off list) - garbage in transition?.

I feel like buying on the list is stupid, because how much thought is it for me to go out and get you your freaking windshield wipers? It's the antithesis of what I enjoy about gift-giving. But going off-list is even more dicey, because you're basically just making me help Value Village line their pockets when I inevitably dump that stuff off to them. And it just sucks all around. In my heart I would much much much prefer that people kept their hard-earned money rather than knowing that they spent it on garbage for me. I would rather they did something useful with that money other than create clutter. However, I believe Sdawg feels that he missed out as a kid and that's the line my sister gave me last night when she was trying to talk me through how much I don't want to be doing it. Because it makes them "happy" to do this big, ostentatious display. But then I'm wondering, when does my happiness get taken into consideration? When does the fact that I believe it's at stupid, crass, empty display of poor financial management in action get to be heard and taken under advisement? Short answer: it doesn't.

It doesn't help that my family is the anti-handmade gift type. Like, my brother always makes a big show of being a jerk and saying, "how much did YOU spend on your niece and nephew?" when I've knit them a sweater or something (this after he goes out the day before Christmas and gets in line to get them a tickle-me-Cookie Monster that just gets neglected in their mountain of toys.) If I had the time to make by hand or craft something for everyone I would. Especially if I knew they appreciated it...but as a general rule, my family comes from the "if it doesn't come with a price tag, it's not a present" school of thought. Meanwhile, I'm always gazing enviously at all those shiny, happy, design-y families in the blogosphere who get together to craft beautiful presents of engraved mugs or something else charming and sweet (and impeccably designed and executed).

I think ultimately, I don't like having my hand forced. I like getting stuff for people when I think of it or when I come across something thoughtful and personal and specifically tailored. I don't need you to get me my cotton tights. What I DO want is stuff that you can't afford. Like a Fisher Paykel 2 oven gas range. And I certainly don't expect you to get it for me.

Anyway, the conversation with my sister was redeemed by some funny moments when I asked her what we should get for Little Big Cuz. "Don't get him toys," she told me, "he just got a GIANT sock monkey from his aunt, I'm talking life-sized." To which I replied, "What do you mean 'life-sized'? It's a sock monkey! Is it the size of a sock? Or a monkey? Or a human?" LOL! Little Big Cuz is also a fan of those intensely boring non-fiction picture books that I personally can't stand - the ones with photos of real babies and trucks and real animals and stuff. So my sister goes, "well, there is one thing he does like, he likes my Everyday Food magazine" (which, in case you're not aware, is a Martha Stewart recipe magazine). So I guess I'm getting my nephew a subscription to Everyday Food. LOL!

Fin.

Clobbered

The clobbering of one K. Lagerfeld, Esquire continues! But the weekend is in sight and if I work very very very extra extra extra hard, then I will have my literature review done and I can have my super-packed weekend of fun unencumbered.

I finished reading Bonnie Jo Campbell's Once Upon a River the other night. I really enjoyed this book and the frustrating cipher heroine at its center, one Margo Crane. Margo takes off at the age of 16 down the Kalamazoo river in rural Michigan in search of her mother, armed with a stolen .22, her copy of an Annie Oakley biography, and her own preternatural still, reflective, observant nature and drive for survival. She is beautiful, remote, and as more than one character refers to her, "a throwback" in 1970s Michigan with her ability to hunt and fish and provide for herself. I haven't met a character quite like her in modern fiction and I enjoyed that this quasi-survival tale was told from the perspective of a woman, with the unique challenges faced by women trying to make their own way and choose their own life, given their due. The novel is spare, a little haunting, and draws you into this small-town world by the banks of the river. In a way it reminded me of Winter's Bone, with alternating periods of more and less menace that that depicted in the film burbling below the surface. The book can be maddening at times, with Margo's innocence and ignorance coming together again and again to undermine her naive attempts to "live her own life." I highly recommend it.

These are last night's perogies:

Tonight we're having beef stroganoff with a sweet potato, regular potato, and celery root mash and sautéed brussels sprouts. Dr. Rei and possibly Hanbo are coming over for dinner and then we're all going to bundle up and partake in the Leslieville Wanderlust - a night of shopping and nibblies and live music at the various stores in our 'hood. I LOVE MY NEIGHBOURHOOD! Not for nothing has the New York Times proclaimed us the Williamsburg of Toronto (which I don't think is true, but n00bs will buy it and I can deal with that cool-by-association pedigree). I had to manage Dr. Rei's expectations...last year's Wanderlust, while fun, wasn't like some kind of winter-wonderland/Rockefeller Centre tree-lighting extravaganza...but it was still fun and it's worth it just to sample Bobette and Belle's hot chocolate with the torched marshmallows and poke around all the vintage/antique shops.

Fun!

Fin.

Busy as a motherf**ker in here

I am getting OWNED right now. OWNED! Work is busy, school is busy, life is busy and I'm so OVER Christmas. Actually, revise. I love everything about Christmas except the gifts. I'm over getting gifts, I'm over the pressure to get gifts. I'm definitely over gifts for anyone under the age of 16. I just think it's so ridiculous. Like, what are you going to do? Get me stuff I can buy myself? As a believer in the "Treat. Yo'. Self." school of conspicuous consumption, I don't really need someone to get me rando shiz. I like, REALLY REALLY REALLY don't need someone to get me rando shiz. I just feel like the holidays are stressful for everyone, and we all KNOW it's stressful going out and buying something special and meaningful for people on your list in like, the 2 seconds you have when you're not running from work, to home, to socializing with people in a meaningful way, to being at home and doing meaningful, non-capitalist driven stuff that actually HELPS the world more than more stuff does - so why do we do it? Why do we do it to each other? So not worth it!

I love seeing my house lit up with the kind of kooky, non-Martha Stewart approved light display I cooked up while still recovering from gastroenteritis on Monday (I teetered on a step stool while experiencing the chills) and I love being with family and visiting with friends and I love eating cookies and baking cookies and giving cookies and I love crying through the Peanuts Christmas movie and I love snow and hot chocolate and wearing slippers and soft flannel jammies and the smell of firs and evergreens and the holiday buffet at Hart House which is the closest I've come to eating in the great hall at Hogwart's.. Those are all things I love about the holidays. The gifts? And the shopping? And the endless piles of garbage-making? I can do without.

Next year I'm going to make the Big Yam an advent calendar and I'm going to put like, 1 piece of chocolate in and the rest of the pockets will be filled with activities like "drinking hot chocolate" or "watching a holiday-themed movie" or a book or something. Holiday memories are about being together. The stuff is the least of it. I will make a concession for a stocking. I like stockings. But I'm going to take a page from Little House on the Prairie. You know what Laura and Mary got in their stocking? I'll itemize it for you:

1 tin cup each

1 cookie cake made with white flour

1 penny in the toe of the stocking

That's IT. There might have been a stick of striped peppermint candy, but I'm not sure if that was Little House on the Prairie or Little House in the Big Woods. Either way, it's pretty chill. I came across this grouping of stocking stuffers in my blogroll and I like the categories: something to eat, something to read, something to play with, something to wear. That seems very reasonable and yet still fun.

Things that can take the wind right out of your sails: finding out, 3 weeks after submitting your mid-term exam, that you did the wrong version of the exam, the version of the exam that was longer and had more components, because the prof didn't send out an email about the revised take-home exam available on the course website, and you always leave class mid-way through so you didn't hear the announcement. AI-YI-YI, papi! What the heck? I'm waiting to hear back from the prof on how we're going to fix this little situation.

I have a lit review, a final exam, and a research paper (a baby one) due by December 10th and I'm working my butt off to get everything in by then. Technically, I have until the 16th...but I don't want to be working until the 16th. I want to enjoy my Hart House Holiday buffet lunch on the 15th with an empty belly derived from my clear conscience.

On Monday I made us minestrone with spinach-cheese tortellini:

Yesterday we had tuna noodle casserole with a buttered challah topping:

I really, really, really love me a tuna noodle casserole. It's so comforting, with the Campbell's Cream soup all up in there like it's the 1960s all over again.

Tonight we're having dressed up perogies with caramelized fennel and onions and bacon and roasted broccoli and sautéed kale. With a billion pounds of sour cream, of course.

The Big Yam had his one year check up yesterday and our doctor was loving how he sat so still and quiet while he checked his ear and then of his own volition turned his head so that Dr. S. could check his other ear. He did cry when he got stabbed with 3 needles but it subsided quickly. The little muffin. I love seeing him all bundled up in his bulky winter coat and his weird sock-mitts that I knit for him with his face framed by his aviator cap - there's something about when you frame the Big Yam's face that makes his eyes look extra dark and his little button nose extra-buttony and his chubby cheeks extra chunky wunky and his little pretty-boy mouth extra girly.

Okay - that's it for me for the time being. I've got a book review for you tomorrow.

Fin.

What a waste

...of a perfectly good weekend. This past weekend was supposed to be SO FUN! We were going to a party hosted by our friends R & R featuring gin-themed cocktails and then we were supposed to have our anniversary dinner at Woodlot (our second attempt), and instead, shortly after leaving Costco on Saturday afternoon after a dim sum lunch with my mum and grandma and CHova, the Big Yam started on a puke-a-thon. Like, stomach-emptying, partially-digested chunks of char siu bao and blueberries barf-o-matic. Like, all over the clips of the car seat vomitorium. So. Gross.

The grossness aside, the Boobla couldn't have been more of a sweetheart. He was so unbothered by it. One minute he'd be laughing, then he'd barf, and then he'd get tired and fall asleep in a pool of his own vomit (this was when we packed up the car and headed home and he barfed on the DVP). Seriously kid? Why are you the gentlest little soul around? Then mid-way through Saturday night, the Dotytron, who'd been feeling off but had chalked it down to feeling bad for the Big Yam, started his own journey down the barf-brick road. Then I started feeling woozy on Sunday morning. It was THE WORST. Ugh. I'd just been bragging about how I never get the flu and I felt awful. Thankfully, my immune system is pretty freakishly strong and I didn't get the barfs or the scoots. But I was so tired and cranky and miserable and feeling like my whole body ached and that my skin hurt - it was like coming down off particularly bad LSD (not that I know anything about that.) By that point, the Boobla had gotten over his bout of illness and so imagine feeling so uncomfortable in your skin and then having to deal with a happy baby on what turned out to be a gorgeous late-fall day and being cooped up in the house begging your equally sick partner to please feed you saltines because your arm hurts too much to lift a cracker towards your mouth. THE WORST!

The only good thing to come out of it was this photo of a particularly sweet moment:

It's like the Big Yam knew exactly what his Baba needed. He usually NEVER sleeps on us. His new heartbreaking thing when he wakes up from sleep is to sit straight up in a corner of the crib in his dark little room, crying and staring at his balled up fists in his lap. It's heart wrenching. So he woke up from his nap and was doing that thing but when the Dotytron picked him up he just snuggled in and went back to sleep. Durrrrr...so freakin' cute and sweet.

The weekend had started off really promisingly. Settlers of Cattan with Dr. Rei and Hanbo was hilarious (but cut throat) fun. My sunchoke-celery soup turned out delicious - especially topped with roasted garlic oil croutons. I loves me some croutons in soup.

Our banh mi was spectacular. Look at that thing. That is a TWO DOLLAR sandwich. How is that possible? That's an MBA thesis, right there. It's like a foot-long crusty-but-soft French loaf, stuffed with a smearing of salted butter, a smear of pate, some roasted pork, some ham-type stuff, pickled daikon and carrot, a cucumber, and sliced chilies and cilantro, if you so please (I do not). It's crazy town!

I also made us my cardamom-spiked pineapple upside down cake, which I make at least once a year.

I took today off of work to shake the rest of the sickness - last night I got some pretty bad sleep on account of the body ache and general mind-fuzz from a day spent motionless on the couch watching bad movies on TV. I can't imagine that I used to marathon TV. I can't do it anymore. I don't have it in me. I used to crave a day spent inside with blankets on the couch/bed eating snacks and considering it a failure if I didn't prepare properly and had to leave the house. I can't do it anymore. It makes me feel downright sick. Granted, that was in my early 20s, and a lot of the things I did then make me feel downright sick (see: previous post on the shady, seedy weirdos with whom I used to keep company).

Tonight we're having the roomie over for dinner. I'm making minestrone with spinach-cheese tortellini (tortellini is purchased - I'm not crazy) and we'll have it with bread and butter and maybe cheesecake brownies because I know they're the roomie's favorite. It'll be nice to get back to our regular scheduled, pretty healthy eating routine.

Fin.

I love this show

I don't know how/why this came up, but it did today (came up in my head) and it made me laugh so I thought I'd share it with y'alls. This show is still consistently winning me over, unlike say, other comedy winners of years past like Modern Family (too sentimental!) and Community (too something - too caught up in its own shiz). The best thing about Community right now is Donald Glover, who is one of those insanely multi-talented people (like Mindy Kaling) that I aspire to be. He wrote for 30 Rock, he's an actor on Community, he does stand-up, and he produces some pretty good tunes with one of the best names of all time (other than Gucci Mane, natch), Childish Gambino (from the Wu-Tang name generator, natch natch). And he does most of his own production:

Seriously? Why aren't more people in my generation like this? Instead you have people who are like, mired in consumer debt, easily polarized by fringe issues (I'm looking at you, America), and who are more often than not, like the majority of my classmates, first rate dumbys. Ugh. It seriously makes me scared for the future of the public service that it's made up with so many people who are so limited (by themselves!) in so many ways. Actually, let's expand on that: I'm seriously scared by the future of our world that it's made up with so many people who are so limited in so many ways. Being smart, being politically aware, being into popular culture, and being funny are NOT mutually exclusive attributes (see also: Aziz Ansari)! The above track is like a perfect storm for Lagerfeld love - I love tinkly, anthemic, orchestral rap tracks with slow, sluggy beats. It's like my kryptonite.

This is a bit of a randomonium post. Can I also tack on that I don't like Adele? I think she comes off as phony. Her songs are such "all the single ladies" sad sack young woman bait. Meh. What I **do** love is the Prince versus Charlie Murphy skit on the Chappelle Show - so good. We watched this last Friday and were almost in tears, laughing:

Last night for dinner we had twice baked potatoes. They look like zombie potatoes because I used Guinness-infused cheddar for the topping...which obviously has to melt down like a bad skin graft. They were delicious, though.

Tomorrow is my day off - so I'm going to be doing errands and sorting out my pension and other scintillating stuff like that. We're having Dr. Rei and the Hanbo over for dinner and Settlers of Cattan, though. Maximum bo!

Fin.

2011 will forever go down in infamy

as the year we paid about $500 in parking/speeding/driving without valid insurance card tickets. Seriously. We can't take Captain Save-A-Ho anywhere without getting dinged with a ticket. Add to that what we had to pay because it turns out that the Dotytron GOT HIS LICENSE SUSPENDED (he fought a parking ticket, missed the court date because of what happened with his da', forget to pay the resulting fine, and BOOM! that's the recipe for getting your license suspended in case you were wondering).

This means that this week he's been getting up just after 5am to TTC it to work. We *could* risk having him drive with a suspended license, but knowing our luck, he'd get pulled over or rear-ended or we'd end up like my friend G's neighbour, who got pulled over with his kids in the car with a suspended license and they were going to call Child Services to have his kids taken away.

Just thinking about all that money is enough to make my hanging-on-to-middle-class-by-the-skin-of-my-teeth a** cry. I keep thinking about our long-delayed kitchen/bathroom renos and how all those tickets could have gotten us...I don't know...a Toto toilet or something. Thinking about kitchen/bath renos has been consuming me lately. But that's okay. When it gets done, we are going to do it RIGHT. I'm talking: Toto toilet, Bosh dishwasher, composite counters, Marimekko shower curtain - the whole lot. Maybe...maybe...a 36" stove. Neither me, nor my line of credit(s) that will be subsidizing this venture are f**king around. We're going whole hog and it's going to look gorgeous.

Which isn't to say I'm not happy now. Look at what we had for dinner on Monday night - made in our current kitchen, with the manky mirror and the holes in the ceiling that are getting cobwebbed:

That's a delicious bacon, roasted pumpkin, and swiss chard risotto with asiago cheese. Pretty darned fantastic.

Also, truth be told, getting up just after 5am doesn't make a huge difference when you're GOING TO BED AT 9PM. LOL! That's what we do now. We watch 1 episode of television (lately it's been The Walking Dead), then go upstairs, brush our teeth, go peek in on the Boobla, and then read a book/knit/massage myrrh into our nail beds (I'll leave it to you to assign the preceding activities to the fitting party) and pass out. Also, I don't know how we could push back our mornings any more. The Big Yam wakes up at 6am invariably...and in order to get out of the house by 7:45, I need that much time for feeding the two of us, cleaning the two of us, dressing the two of us, and packing the two of us up to start our days.

The new baby has started at the daycare. He's a bit of a crybaby. Like, any time he's put down he cries. Which had been making me worry about the amount of attention that the Big Yam is getting but J is fantastic. As she says, crybaby "he has to learn" and she makes a point of distributing the love. She also seems to favour the Big Yam a bit right now because he's such a good sport about, well, everything. He smiled his way through his fever and roseola and he starts every day with her so calm and good - I think she appreciates that so far, he's a chill baby. Hopefully he stays that way so she'll stay in the biz and be willing to look after any potential future chillun of ours.

Tonight we're having twice baked potatoes for dinner. I love me a baked potato. Did you guys know that a lot of people don't eat the potato skins? That's like, a travesty for me. Potato skins are SO FREAKING good, ESPECIALLY as vehicles for sour cream and butter and dill. I love the textural contrast of that papery, dry, chewy skin giving way to a flood of buttery, dairy, potentially-bacon-studded richness. Anyway, yeah, twice baked potatoes for dinner topped with Guinness infused cheddar. Nom nom.

I devoured Mindy Kaling's book, Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (And Other Concerns) with unseemly haste. Well, maybe it was seemly, considering I've had it pre-ordered since early last year. I found this collection of essays so entertaining. Kaling is whip-smart, self-aware, okay with being narcissistic and frivolous and aware of pop culture (which is where I find myself warming to her more than say, Tina Fey) and as a consequence, I find her very easy to relate to. She's also hilarious - her lists and the stories of her growing up with her professional parents as an androgynous, chubby child are laugh out loud funny, which is precisely what I needed after the heaviness that was Tom Perrotta. She has also perfected the modern, social-media fostered technique of giving the reader the impression that you're getting "real" access to her - which was nice, because I personally found Bossypants (Tina Fey's essay collection) too guarded. I don't know why I'm comparing the two - is it anti-feminist to compare the two? That seems to be the trend - both Tina and Mindy are like, "don't compare us just because we're two funny, Ivy-educated women who published books of humorous essays within the same year" but I'm like, "I get that, but why shouldn't I compare you? Wouldn't I compare two autobiographies of Andrew Jackson, 7th president of the United States of America if they were published with fanfare within the same calendar year?" Like, what's more sexist here? To compare, or to allege that the comparison is sexist?

I dunno. All I know is that I found this book utterly charming and funny and her depictions of the strictness of 1st generation American parents resonated. Go get it!

Sigh. There's a new Oscar season ramping up and I feel like I've barely made a dent in the films I wanted to see last year. What's a girl to do? This season is pretty thin, IMO. Not too enthused. Did I also mention that we're pretty much booked up until the New Year? [deadpan] yay [/deadpan]

Fin.

The weekend that was

fairly uneventful, by all standards. I made us a pre-class breakfast of baked eggs florentine in ham cups - it was okay - I think it would be better topped with hollandaise or a cheese sauce next time. The ham gave off quite a bit of liquid - maybe I'll try with proscuitto next time, or maybe bake the eggs in bread cups and serve the ham/proscuitto/other breakfast pork product on the side:

Saturday night after class we had the Dotytron's childhood friend S over for dinner - I made us carnitas - which are the BEST entertaining meal, ever. It's so easy! The pork does all the cooking all by its very own self and all you have to do is warm corn tortillas, open up some bottled salsa, maybe dice up some avocado if you're feeling extra ambitious, and quick-pickle some onions. Otherwise, pork shoulder slowly braised with garlic and cumin in citrus juice and then fried-crisp in its own rendered fat truly doesn't need any other adornment. My favorite mode is the pork, some pickled onions, and diced avocado squirted with lime. I ate an ungodly number of these, accompanied by a red cabbage slaw that was also extraneous - it was nice to feel like we were consuming some vegetables to combat all that lard.

The next morning I scrambled up leftover carnitas with some eggs and we had it for breakfast, with me again eating an ungodly number. I think we're going on a healthy eating binge for the next little bit - too many meals out this past week.

Sunday was a day of errands and such. We had a bit of a sad moment when I had it in my head to finish up the photo albums I've been working on by tagging them with post-it notes when the year changes - otherwise, it's kind of hard to know when things happened - when you have 10 years together, they kind of start to blur into one another. I found a photo marking a definitive year and then worked forward...coming to the end of 2010 was really, really hard. The photos for the year always end with the Christmas festivities with my family and with the Dotytron's family. Seeing my Kung Kung and the photos of Poppa D broke my heart a bit and made the sadness come. I can't quite believe what we've been through in 2011. It feels like the funeral for my grandpa was so long ago, and yet, he only passed away in February or something. I still can't quite believe that Poppa D is gone - I don't know when I'll start believing it - he was so well, until he wasn't, and it happened so quickly. The past two months feel like a living dream and look - we're midway through November already. I don't know how to express how I'm feeling - how mixed this past year has been - watching the Big Yam grow into the little joy-filled being that he is - a year of laughter and happiness punctuated with so much sadness and so many tears. I'm still in shock. I sat at our dining room table and cried for a good long time, until I looked up and beheld this:

I don't know how we're supposed to reconcile that face with losing Poppa D - the two emotions don't seem like they could possibly exist in the same world. Somehow they do - and I guess that's what makes this living.

We've lost a lot of things this year - my Kung Kung, Poppa D, the Dotytron's license (it's temporarily suspended - that's a story for another day), and, for an all-too-extended period this weekend, the Dotytron's cell phone. The little Boobla hid the Dotytron's cell phone for the better part of Saturday and Sunday, but he hid it in an obvious place and when we slowed down to actually look carefully, we found it again. I'm hoping we can do that with the other stuff, too.

Fin.

10

Yesterday marked 10 years in the ongoing saga that is Karl Lagerfeld and The Dotytron. That's a third of our lives spent grinding it out, together. This is what we looked like when we first got together:

Just about every other person in that photo we no longer hang out with/associate ourselves with because they're either mad seedy, or weirdos, or jerks. I mean, I guess they're like, normal people, but totally not our style. Anyway, that's not the point.

Look at what babies we were! That was at the apex of the Dotytron's Abraham Lincoln, chin-strap raver phase. Awwwww...he was such a PLUR-tastic n00b back then. I always thought that when I met the Dotytron, I was like, old. Like, it's not like we were high school sweethearts or anything...but when you think about it, we met when we were both 22. So only, 3 years out of high school, really (well 4 for me, because I fast-tracked through high school back in those prehistoric days when there was still an OAC grade. Anyway, NBD *cough* Iwasinthegiftedprogram *cough*). And here we are, a decade later, in a house, with our happy cute little baby boy, and our 2 cats, and our network of non-seedy, non-weirdo, non-jerk friends, and our extended family.

I can't believe how quickly the past 10 years have gone by and all we have as a record of it is a few scattershot memories and photo albums. Nothing that speaks to the hundreds of thousands of mundane minutiae that make up our life together - all those companionable hours sitting on the couch, or driving to buy groceries, or walking to get coffee, or doing our respective reading before bed...no one particular moment from that swirling mass of everyday stands out, and yet taken together, the ordinariness of that blur provides the backbone for us now, 10 years later.

I got lucky somehow. So yes, maybe we're not soul mates or something, but at this point, we might as well be - we've grown on each other and together like loud, opinionated, brassy lichen on an easy-going, funny stone.

We spent our anniversary evening having dinner with Dr. Rei (pretty fitting, as my bff-ship with her dates back the same time) at Duff's Wings talking about urban transportation, the city's funding shortfall and Vibes Kartel. Which is a pretty hilarious, fitting, and timeless snapshot of the M-R-I dynamic. We're going out for a nice dinner this weekend. And we might squeeze in a Guu dinner with our Guu compadres, MHui and her hubby, later in the month. That's a pretty good way to celebrate 10 years together, I think. Even if all the Dotytron wants to ever do is go to Hashimoto and eat a $300/person kaiseki meal.

Today is Remembrance Day, which is a government and bank holiday. I kept the Big Yam home and took him to the drop-in centre and then we biked to Riverdale Farm and visited with Poppa D at the necropolis and visited with the animals at Riverdale Farm. Riverdale Farm is an urban treasure, guys. Whereas High Park Zoo makes me super sad (because I don't think it's right keeping those animals penned up in the park), Riverdale Farm, because of the farminess of it and the focus on domesticated beasts of burden, is awesome. They also do all kinds of cheap programming like knitting and needle craft and pottery for kids which is so cool and when the Big Yam is old enough, I'm totally signing him up. I'm ESPECIALLY signing him up for "Farmer's Life" which is geared towards 10-13 year olds and inexplicably has a million spots open on it's registration list. Farmer's Life 4-eva, sons.

Lolly is bringing us dinner tonight, which is sooo nice! I love having dinner brought over. Can't wait to get a visit with her. Our stove is also fixed. Huzzah! The roomie brought over Coyote Willies on Wednesday and it was pretty tasty. They make some mean "fries" (they're like crispy on the outside, but pillowy on the inside fries in the potato wedge idiom). I'm going to make us dulce de leche dessert crepes tonight.

I have class tomorrow. Boourns.

Fin.

Kim Kardashian

So, the person in my life with the most to say about Kim Kardashian's divorce is (somewhat surprisingly) the Dotytron. He is OBSESSED with Kris Humphries, in a kind of classically Dotytron way. Which means that he doesn't know his name, but will periodically update me on the status on Kris and Kim's relationship by asking questions like, "Have you seen the guy Kim Kardashian is dating? He's a centaur!" So I've been hearing centaur-related updates for the past few months. I find is so funny that he thinks Kris Humphries is a centaur.

Not much to report here. I have dodgeball this evening and then the roomie is bringing us dinner, which is good, because our stove is all effed up (yay! Exactly what we need right now!). It won't turn on and when you turn the dial the "burner on" light flickers but doesn't go on completely - I think it's just a loose wire and I'm trying to get someone in to fix it. Still a pain in the butt - how are we supposed to go a few days without a stove?!??

We've started watching The Walking Dead, and by "watching" I mean, I sit with my hand up blocking my view of the television and hyperventilate and repeat tersely "I hate this show. Why are we watching this show. I hate this show."

I've also started stressing about the holidays because well - the holidays kind of blow. What the crap am I supposed to get for the Big Yam? He doesn't even know what's going on right now. He only recently figured out how to clap his hands together! I think next year I'm going to go more buck making an advent calendar and whatnot for him, but for right now, I think he'll just be happy that we have a tree that he can destroy. Ugh...I just want to call Christmas off all together.

This has been a pretty randomonium post. Sorry.

Fin.

Roseola butt

Coping with a certain little roseola butt accounts for the blogging delays. The little mister had a pretty rough weekend - he was clingy and didn't want to be put down and was being a bit of a whiner. It was tough to deal with, especially when you're trying to get a midterm done at the same time. At a certain point, when the Big Yam was crying to get my attention I just kept saying, "SHUT UP" and then the Dotytron chastised me for being a jerk and I felt really bad.

Especially because later that same day, I was lying on the futon mattress on the floor of the Big Yam's room (we haven't moved it out from the night we kept a sick and sleepless vigil over him) trying to nap while he crawled around and played around me. At one point, he lay down on his back beside me and I sang "Twinkle Twinkle" and did the hand motions and then we found a scrap of paper and started playing this silly made-up game where I kind of flapped it around and it made him giggle over and over again. Imagine how bad I felt then for telling him to shut up when he was sick and just wanting to be held. IMAGINE. I'll give you an idea: REALLY, REALLY, REALLY BAD. Like, approaching war crimes-bad.

Out of all the wonderful, wonderful, new, heart-piercing feelings that are associated with parenthood, you and your child lying on the floor on your backs, side by side, looking up together - playing with your hands, reading a story, watching the slow-moving drift of the mobile - is an especially sweet one. Feeling your child's giggles reverberate through his cheek pressed against yours at the same time as you hear that sweet, sweet sound so close in your ear will make your heart swell with a love you didn't know was possible. I love the little muffin top so much.

[/gross human-interest story sentimentality]

Holy crikes. I might as well be that great dane with the seeing eye dog friend at this point.

Friday nights' dinner: braised Chinese style pork belly in a sweet soy sauce with eggs, sautéed Chinese greens from our CSA, and brown rice

The Dotytron and the Big Yam at the Evergreen Brickworks. This photo doesn't adequately capture the magic of that place - the cold snap of the fall, the whispering visibility of people's breath in the air, the comfort of chilly fingers wrapped around warm cups of coffee, the camaraderie around the fires, or waiting in line for a breakfast crepe. This is fast becoming one of our favorite Saturday morning rituals.

Saturday nights' dinner - turkey and brown rice cabbage rolls. So good.

Saturday night's dessert - pouding chomeur w/ vanilla ice cream

Sunday breakfast - toasted pecan whole wheat waffles with bacon and bison breakfast sausages from the new store, Sausage Partners, that just opened up a hop, skip, and a jump away from us.

Sunday night's dinner at Momma D's: red currant glazed, prune stuffed pork tenderloin, baked potatoes, asparagus, her special turnip & apple casserole

Monday nights' dinner - braised sausages from Sausage Partners again - the "organ grinder" (organ meats) and the bacon and bison ones with a white bean, kale, tomato, and rosemary ragout.

Last night was book club - I love my academic book club ladies. I stayed until almost midnight talking with the stragglers. It's such a nice, supportive atmosphere and it's funny to see how this disparate group of women spanning a wide age range has come together and found commonalities and become friends.

Class tonight - ugh. I definitely have to go as I've missed the last 2. I'll leave during the break and hope for the best when it comes time to do the final take-home exam.

I brought leftover braised sausage for dinner.

Fin.

I hate to use this expression, but...

...FML.

Here is what I've been going through lately:

1) The ongoing trials and tribulations of the Big Yam's health

Tuesday night, didn't make it to my class because the Dotytron called and was like, the Big Yam feels hot, J said she thinks he has a fever, how do I take his temperature, blah blah blah. So he takes the Big Yam's temp and it's like, 38.3 and then 38.9!!! (Anything about 38C when the temperature is taken rectally is a fever.) So we got the last appointment at our clinic (once again, I'm so so so thankful I got onto one of the Family Health Teams in Toronto - it's like the smartest, most efficient system, EVER!) - as it turns out, our doctor's office keeps a few appointments open during the day for just such a scenario, and it's called a "will-call" spot or something, and basically it's the doctor's call whether they think the symptoms warrant a visit. So we see the doctor and she's like, "Well, a fever alone is never harmful, it's the body's way of clearing infection. I know parents worry about febrile seizures and brain damage..." (cut to me SPAZZING OUT HARD on the inside because I HAD NO IDEA I SHOULD EVEN BE WORRIED ABOUT SEIZURES AND BRAIN DAMAGE!!! WTF?!??? WHY DOESN'T ANYONE TELL ME THIS STUFF?!!!??) "but," she continued, "that rarely ever happens. Even if your baby has a fever of 40C over 24 hours, it's not a cause for concern." She did say it was weird that he was presenting with a fever after being on antibiotics for 3 days, but she told us to monitor it and if it went on for more than 48 hours, to bring him back.

So, on Wednesday night, I come home from work and he's got a fever of 40.3!!! So the Dotytron and I totally freaked out and cancelled dodgeball so that we could basically just sit and stare at the Big Yam in silent worry. The Dotytron had basically not eaten dinner on Tuesday night because he just sat and stared at Master T in lieu of eating, even though throughout this, the Big Yam has been totally cheerful and fine and eating. Wednesday night was super weird, because Master T would suddenly break out in these inconsolable crying jags, that were so uncharacteristic of him - like, full on pouty, miserable, real-tears crying, for no reason! It was so weird. So we totally got freaked out by that.

Thursday, the fever is gone, and he's kind of back to his usual self, but appetite is decreased and a little clingy and irritable.

This morning, I notice he has this tiny, pin-prick rash on his forehead in between his eyes. When I'm changing him, I notice the same rash is all over his torso. I think it's a heat rash because we gave him a warm bath and put him in fleecy pajamas, note that he's not feverish, and bring him to J, who tells me that it might be chicken pox (which again, I HADN'T EVEN CONSIDERED BECAUSE I'M THE MOST OBLIVIOUS MAMA EVER!) but that she'll still take him because he's likely not contagious anymore (I've said it once, and I'll doubtless say it many, many more times over the years - I LOVE MY DAYCARE PROVIDER MORE THAN LIFE - especially cuz today, not coming in to work wasn't the best option for me). So I totally sent my kid to daycare today with chicken pox. Or, what my sister thinks might be roseola, another virus kids get that has high fever, pinprick rash symptoms. Oy. Vey.

2) The good news

The good news is, my kid takes a rectal thermometre like a champ. Seriously. So completely unfazed and cool with having something stuck up his butt. It's the best. My advice for parents: go to the doctor armed with rectal temperatures if you are the kind of person (like me) whose ego loves validation from traditional professionals (lawyers, doctors, not chiropractors, etc.) The doctor's look of approval after we responded "rectal thermometre" to her question about where the temperature was taken was almost enough to mitigate how bad I felt with the Big Yam being a sickie. A distant second choice is armpit, but that might be the way to go if you are worried about puncturing your kid's rectum - but seriously, the "just the tip" rule of thumb works really well here.

3) Interment

Yesterday was the interment for Poppa D's ashes, which was sad and sorrowful and stressful at the same time. He's in a beautiful spot at the Toronto Necropolis, which is close to our house for visiting and is one of Toronto's oldest cemeteries - it's really peaceful and quiet there and it's across the street from Riverdale Farm, which is perfect - I'm planning on taking the Big Yam there on Remembrance Day, when I have the day off of work. I still can't quite believe that Poppa D is gone - it hurts to think about it and it hurts every time I think about how fast the Big Yam is growing up and how he's growing up without his Poppa. My heart hurts and my head spins from the fact that life insists on continuing. I get teary thinking about how much he would have loved to see Master T in his cute little log costume and how much he's missing and how much the Big Yam is missing not having his Poppa around. I'm sad for how much the Dotytron is missing, not having his dad around...it's just sad all around...it's not fair.

4) Arson!

Last night I heard my trashy neighbours yelling something so, being the not-so-discrete snoopy voyeur that I am, I looked out the window, thinking that I might be witnessing a domestic. They were shouting something and I saw this weird orange glow on their faces and noticed other people gawking on the street, so I went outside. Well, as it turns out, MY NEIGHBOUR'S TWO GARAGES WERE ENGULFED IN FLAMES. Not my neighbour-neighbour, like the house on the corner, about 14 houses down. He had two extremely derelict, ancient garages that were really just shack/frames, but they were ON FIRE - like flames already up onto the roof and jumping onto his fence and the front of his (new!) car on fire, fire. It was insane. I went out and confabbed about it with the neighbours and the one who called it in to 911 said that when she called, the flames were 2 feet off the ground, but in the time it took her to make the call, the entire thing was up. The fire department says it looks suspicious - my neighbour didn't keep anything in there (other than his car) but had just down the raking and had 12 bags of leaves in there. The fire department came super quick and got the blaze out but the guys garage is a smoking, charred wreck, his car is donezo, and his fence got all burned up.

If I were the fire department/fire marshals/what have you, I would have INSTANTLY gone around interviewing the bystanders. Because if you're an arsonist, wouldn't you want to hang around and see your work? That's what I've been led to believe by such incisive, informative, hard-hitting journalism pieces as Backdraft. If I were the fire department, I would be looking around the people assembled for this guy:

Is it bad that when I came back into the house all a-twitter with the excitement of the fire and the thrill of talking with your neighbours out of context in your pajamas that I wanted to dig out this record and blast it into the street?

If this ever happens again (let's hope not), I can just see me and the Dotytron looking at each other, giving each other a nod, and then pushing the speakers and sub woofer up to the front windows, putting on this record, and then raving in the street. LOL.

5) Group work and mid-term hell

I'm trying to merge all the components of my team for this stupid final report for a school assignment and it's killing me and no one else cares and it's driving me crazy. Those foolios better not think that I'm bringing the whole document together, because that ain't happening. I can tell you that much. I offered to bring the works cited list together and make it cohesive and that's what I'm doing. Then I have a mid-term due next week that is crazy. The prof has set these insaneo page limit expectations like, 7 pages single spaced for Part A, but when I look at the questions, they look like one line answers to me. UGH. Do you know how much WORK it is to make up so much b.s.? Answer: a lot. More than if I actually had a lot to say.

So that's the update. Things have been bats**t crazy around here and it's been non-stop stress and go and managing too many teams/coordinating too many events (like buying Prince tickets). This weekend our social docket is blessedly free, thank my lucky stars. We have massages on Saturday and I have to make a brief appearance at a baby shower on Sunday before having dinner with Momma D and Ehmdo at Momma D's house. Sounds pretty darned blissful, doesn't it?

Fin.